


Farmer's Daughter

by MandyPrintz



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 07:23:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4339223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandyPrintz/pseuds/MandyPrintz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living at home and working on the family farm is great and all, but it certainly does get more interesting when your dad unexpectedly hires a cute farm hand named Aaron. (Based on the song Farmer’s Daughter by Rodney Atkins)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Farmer's Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> HOLY. SHIT. I have had this song stuck in my head for DAYS and absolutely couldn’t get this fic idea out of my head for just as long. I’ve been putting it off because, well, I have a WHOLE bunch of prompts to fill. But at the prompting of lunaarryn I decided to just give it a shot. 3 hours of continuous writing later and here we are. It was just SO NICE to sit down and write something start to finish without interruptions and I’m actually SO HAPPY with it (However, I also didn’t really edit anything so if there’s typos I AM SO SORRY) ANYWAY, on with the fic.

**Caught a Glimpse**

_Help Wanted -- Family owned farm and country store lookin for someone with a reliable truck and two strong arms to help out this old man who just can’t do it all alone anymore. Generous pay, but Lord, don’t be scared of dirt or to work till the sun goes down some days. As long as you’re willing to help, we’ll be happy to have ya. Call or visit the store to respond._

You take a moment to look from the man standing in front of you to the newspaper clipping he handed you not moments ago and back. He’s practically bouncing on his toes with wide eyes and an even wider smile, a few tufts of dark hair falling into his face with the movement. Yeah, that’s definitely your landline number after the little paragraph, and the farm’s address, but not once had you heard anything about hiring someone new. However; with it already hitting the high eighties in May, you know that the extra hands (and someone who doesn’t mind sweating) would definitely be put to good use so you don’t question it.

“Can you give me a moment, um…” you look to him again, realizing he never introduced himself.

“Oh!” he laughs and offers you a hand, which you accept. “Aaron, Aaron Marquis, ma’am.” His handshake is firm and sends somewhat of a shock through your fingertips. You can feel your cheeks redden under his gaze and you nod once, shuffling off out the back door.

Luckily, your father isn’t too far out back, loading bales of hay into the back of a wagon. “Daddy!” You call, waving the newspaper in his direction. “Someone’s here to see ya!” He nods and brushes off his hands, jogging in to meet Aaron. When you saunter back in to continue your shift at the store, you try not to eavesdrop too much, but you catch most of the conversation. Your dad telling Aaron that last fall he lost your brother to college and hasn’t had much help since, Aaron explaining that he could start as soon as needed. A few quips about Chevy vs. Ford and a handshake later, Aaron is ushered out back to start work. Before the screen door swings shut behind him, you sneak another glance in their direction, catching a glimpse of a dirty pair of cowboy boots and quite the backside view.

“Well that was fast,” your mom pipes up, startling you out of your admittedly invasive stare. “We only published that ad this morning.” You nod thoughtfully in response and she laughs, “and he’s quite the looker don’t you think?”

“Yeah he’s...something.” You sigh, smiling at the door.

A few hours later, once the store is closed down and you’ve helped prepare most of dinner, you run back to the yard to do your share of chores for the day. Out by the barn you can see Aaron and your dad working on repairing the fence that’s been broken for God knows how long. Your breath hitches slightly in your throat when you get closer and notice that Aaron has shed his flannel and hung it over the handles of a wheelbarrow, jeans riding dangerously low on his hips with a slight sheen of sweat on his exposed skin.

“Hey you two,” you call, nodding toward the house.  “Mama just put dinner in the oven, should be about 45 if you wanna eat.”

“Shit, is it that time already?” Your dad sighs, looking at his watch. “What do ya say, kid? I think it’s time to call it a day. Thanks for the help.”

“No problem, sir,” Aaron smiles, reaches for his shirt and uses it to wipe his face. “I really appreciate the job opportunity. So, uh, what time do you need me here tomorrow?”

You giggle, already expecting the loud guffaw that comes from your dad’s direction, and move into the barn to gather what you need.

“You think you’re gettin’ rid of us that easily? I insist you join us for dinner, my girls cook up a mean meal, and we can discuss that kind of stuff too.”

Their conversations is lost on you when you exit through the other side of the barn to feed and water the chickens and then moving even farther to do the same for the rest of the animals that needed it. Your last job before dinner is by far the best. When you enter the small pen jutting right off the back of the house, the tiny kid your family rescued trots out of her dog house and bleats happily when she reaches you. Planting yourself on the floor, you pull her into your lap and start bottle feeding her with a warm smile.

“So I never caught your name.”

The sudden voice behind you makes you jump slightly, but when you look over your shoulder you’re met with Aaron leaning lazily against the door frame with a smirk. In the time it’s taken you to finish up work, he’s put his shirt back on, but it still hangs unbuttoned on his shoulders, and you almost have to work to make eye contact with him. It’s simply not fair.

You tell him your name and then hold up the small goat, “and this is Vin. I wasn’t sure who you were talking to.”

He laughs and kneels beside you, scratching the animal between her ears, to which she bleats again. “Nice to meet you both.” His shoulder bumps your own lightly as he sits instead. “But I gotta ask, what the hell kind of a name is Vin for a goat?”

You press your lips into a thin line to try not to laugh at your own joke so hard, “it’s short for Vincent Van Goat.”

His loud laugh is more than unexpected, and sends Vin scattering off of your lap in surprise. This causes you to giggle along as well, and the two of you feed off of each other’s laughter. Soon, your combined laughter turns into more of a fit, and you lean onto Aaron’s shoulder for support when it all becomes too much for your lungs.

Minutes later, after the last of the giggle aftershocks have passed, he sighs heavily. “Clever.”

**Fell in Love**

After weeks of working with Aaron, you’ve falling into somewhat of an effortless friendship. While you worked day shifts in the store, he helped your dad with the heavy lifting and dirty work. After the store closed, the two of you would make the rounds feeding and watering the animals and milking both the cows and goats. Then, most nights would end with the two of you driving down to the nearby lake and chatting in the bed of his truck while the sun went down. Some nights were substituted for a trip to the movies or video game midnight releases, but most common, and you favorite, were the nights at the beach.

From the very first day, you could clearly admit to having a crush on the guy. How could you not? With a body and looks like that, nobody could really deny it. However, about two months in, there was definitely no denying that you were absolutely, head over heels in love with him.

Certain aspects of your friendship clued you in to the possibility of him feeling the same way, but you manage to find a way to explain it all away. His chivalry and politeness is just his southern upbringing. His little nicknames for you (hon, darlin’, and doll) could easily be for the same reason, that’s just how people who live here talk. When he offers to buy dinner, movie tickets, etc. it must be because he actually got paid a decent wage for his work on the farm, whereas, your work was mostly being done to cover the rent you paid on your room in the house.

Even so, when you finish up your work for the day on the Fourth of July and pack up the bed of the truck with fireworks and camping supplies, you can’t help but hope that this will be the weekend that something finally changes for the two of you.

The lake is thankfully empty, and as soon as Aaron parks just at the edge of the beach you hop out and start unloading the truck to set up the mess of blankets and pillows.

“You know,” Aaron laughs, throwing a blanket at your face, “you could help me set up, oh, I don’t know, a fire or the grill or the fireworks or literally anything else that we’ll need before we need the bed.”

“Yeah,” a thoughtful look crosses your face before you respond fully. “But this is a lot more fun. Plus, you’re a dude. I assumed you’d be overly protective of your explosives.”

“Well you’re not wrong.”

You only stick out your tongue in response, laughing as he moves on to set up the small charcoal grill to make dinner. When the pair of you are sufficiently stuffed with burgers, the light show begins, and you have to admit that Aaron is pretty good at arranging a fireworks show wit the rather last minute budget for it.

“And last but not least,” he declares. Digging to the bottom of the bag, he produces a box of sparklers, and you squeal in delight.

“A classic!”

You both burn through most of the box, and when it’s down to the last one he insists that you take it. “I had my fun with the big booms, you go ahead and take it.” His fond smirk is near constant as he watches you twirl in place and watch your sundress flare out while you do, drawing out patterns of light in the dark sky.

“What are you staring at?” You ask, stopping your drawing midair.

“Nothin’, doll.” His voice is as warm as the smile that accompanies it. “Just thinking of doing something.”

“Somethin’ like...?” Your heart practically leaps into your throat when Aaron hops down from the gate of the truck and takes a few long strides toward you. He pulls the forgotten sparkler from your hand and tosses it to the fire, while you can’t seem to tear your eyes from his the whole time. His eyes dart to your lips quickly, then back up, and he grins wickedly before sweeping an arm under your knees and lifting you from the ground in a rush. “Don’t you dare.”

“Dare what?” He plays coy, his feet carrying you closer to the water with each word. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Aaron Marquis!” You warn, not sounding nearly as stern as you intended when a laugh bubbles up from your chest.

He quirks an eyebrow, “yes dear?”

“Put me down!!”

The glint in his eye when you say that makes you immediately regret your choice of words. Every romantic comedy in history has prepared you for something like this and still you manage to say the wrong thing and almost as soon as you realize your mistake, he murmurs, “If you insist,” and his arms are gone, your body plunging into the chilly water.

You can hear him laughing heartily when you resurface and whip the hair from your eyes with a violent shake, and when he calms down, he looks down to see you pouting up at him from the water.

“Aw, hon, I’m sorry I couldn’t resist. Here,” he holds both hands out to help you up and you take them, but instead of pulling yourself up, you put all of your strength into pulling his body down into the lake as well, the both of you laughing again. “Okay, I deserved that.”

“Truce?” You offer as he stands up, and he agrees, offering his help again. This time when you accept, he pulls you up with more force than necessary and directly into his arms. You squeak in surprise when he does, and he immediately wraps his arms around your waist, looking down into your eyes with yet another fond smile. “Can I tell you a secret?” You rest your chin on his chest and whisper, even though you’re well aware that nobody is around to hear you. The iHome on the shore changes to Luke Bryan’s I Don’t Want This Night to End and you can’t think of a more fitting song to be playing right now.

“Of course.”

A deep breath. Now or never. “I am...completely, stupidly, undeniably in love with you.”

The arms around your waist tighten affectionately before he brings one between you to lift your chin. “That’s -- I,” he stutters and sighs. “Did you have to take the words directly out of my mouth?” You manage another elated giggle before he pulls you up and into his lips, the hand on your chin moving around to the back of your head, pulling you in further. You smile into the kiss when you stand on your toes to kiss back heatedly, resting your hands on his chest.

As if you two hadn’t been smiling enough earlier in the day, you both pull away with matching ear-to-ear grins, and suddenly bashful, you look down at your feet still in the tide. Aaron kisses your forehead gently and you bite your lip thinking that you definitely don’t want this night to end.

**I came home to the farmer’s daughter.**

July Fourth, 2019, four years to the day that you first uttered your love for Aaron, the local pastor declares you husband and wife under the wildflowers decorating the doorway to your dad’s barn.

You’re not sure who cries more, you or your mother, but when you run back down the makeshift aisle, hand in hand, to the sounds of Rodney Atkins singing Farmer’s Daughter from the speaker setup, you’re nothing but smiles and giggles.

During your first dance (to none other than I Don’t Want This Night to End), Aaron pulls you close and peppers your face with kisses. Forehead, nose, cheek, cheek, chin. “Who woulda known that when I replied to that job posting in the paper I’d come out of it with the special girl I have ever laid eyes on.”

A happy hum escapes your lips, “you know, I’m right here. Do you have to talk about Vin like that at our wedding?” You both look over to the now-grown goat who’s wearing a tiny flower crown and share a laugh.

“I love you, you dork.” He sighs, resting his forehead on yours as the song flows into something else slow. Neither of you care too much, you just keep swaying to the beat and holding each other close, sneaking a kiss every so often.

More tears are shed at your father’s speech, where he recounts the very day Aaron responded to his job posting and the few moments before dinner when he watched the two of you collapse into each other with laughter on the patio. “I knew then and there that not only had I gained a farm hand that day, but a member of the family as well.” He toasts to you, and you and Aaron sneak a kiss behind your raised champagne flutes before taking sips.

Hours later, as you sprint to the truck to head home from the reception, your father shouts again, “To the happy couple!” and from the open window you can hear a happy bleat of agreement from the very goat that brought the pair of you together.

 


End file.
